Simple
by Shidoni8
Summary: Spock knows this simple decision would change everything. Oneshot. K/S Spork! so if you don't like man/man stuff just don't read so I won't get any flames .


Simple

Convivial sounds issued from the opening door to the captain's quarters of the U.S.S. Enterprise. A wiry figure slouched out of the pneumatic door and stumbled down the corridor, calling farewell to the inhabitants.

"The Doctor's assumption that Vulcans do not feel the effects of alcohol is quite incorrect," mumbled a dazed first officer in the dusky half-light. He sat on a chair across from the simple bed which was occupied by the Captain, himself, who proceeded to smile knowingly as he moved to the seat which his Ship's CMO had just vacated.

"A fact he discovered tonight, Mr. Spock." They were celebrating another successful mission. Naturally, the engines were severely damaged and the Enterprise was heading for the nearest star-base for repairs and crew relaxation. Impromptu bottles of Romulan Ale had been uncorked between friends and why not drink when Bones had a ready-made cure for hangovers in the morning? Having been drinking and telling tall tales (the function of which Spock had had difficulty pinpointing) for much of the previous evening and the time being about oh-two-hundred they decided to call it a night. After the doctor had stumbled clumsily out the door whooshed closed and cut out the garish light of the corridor, leaving the captain and his first officer in the near dark again. Spock, fatigued with the effort in keeping himself alert, let his head fall just a fraction of an inch and turned from the door and the ghost of the harsh light. "Is something troubling you?" Kirk asked intently, leaning over the standard issue table they sat at.

"The departure of the good doctor brings to light my current situation," the half-Vulcan propped himself up on the table as he stood, unsure of his footing.

"And what, Mister Spock, is your current situation?" The shorter man also rose and swayed toward his first officer. In the half-light, and under the influence of significant amounts of alcohol, Kirk's eyes were glazed, his skin was flushed and his voice had affected that particular lilting quality it sometimes possessed. Looking again, Spock could calculate the probability that the captain was, once again, flirting. 38.577 percent. This was a tactic the Captain often used to achieve a goal of some kind. Perhaps it was the nebulosity of Spock's thoughts as a result of the consumption of alcohol, but he could not see a clear goal that the Captain might be trying to achieve in this situation.

"I am intoxicated and in need of rest before the beginning of my next shift of duty. Therefore I will take my leave, if you will pardon me to do so." Spock started toward the door, but before he made it there he felt a tug on his uniform sleeve. Turning, and willing himself not to lose any balance, he stepped toward the human who had impeded his departure. "Is there a problem, Captain?" The question seemed to confuse Kirk, who appeared to think with some difficulty.

"No," he relinquished his hold, "I, I just don't want you to leave yet." He swayed again and lurched toward his bed. Sitting down, Kirk patted the cushion to his right. "Have a seat Mister Spock," he managed to slur the words slightly.

Spock glanced to the door and back and managed to hide a smile as he replied. "Is that an order, Sir?"

"Mm," Kirk managed, nodding fractionally and smiling. As his First Officer sat down Kirk's head spun and he leaned accordingly. Spock watched, bemused for a moment, and then his eyebrow rose with understanding.

"Sir, if you require an anchor, I am at your service. The effects of the Romulan Ale are somewhat lessened on my higher metabolism, and I am-"

"Thankshpock," Kirk slurred, as he leant suddenly on Spock's arm and shoulder. A brief look of surprise crossed his face as he felt the warmth of his Captain's skin through the uniform shirt. The warmth was doubly surprising because of Spock's naturally higher body temperature, and he would have been worried if he didn't know the opposite effects alcohol had on the body temperatures of Vulcans and Humans. They sat in silence for several minutes and Spock had almost suspected the Captain of falling asleep when the latter stirred a little. He hadn't moved until then for fear of disturbing Kirk, but since the balance had already been disrupted he turned to face his friend, a hand raised to touch the Captain's arm and get his attention before he should fall asleep.

"It is late, Jim," he said, "and you need to rest." He stood, turning, and withdrew his touch. The hand that he had raised was suddenly grasped by another, and Spock's eyes darted to it, then to the face of the man to whom it belonged. James Kirk looked exhausted, but his eyes were now fully alert. They looked up, asking a question that was nearly indecipherable, so choked with doubt and need. So close in the semi-darkness, they were frozen, despite the rising temperatures of their bodies. What had he been doing until this point in time? Spock could cloudily remember his intent to leave, which was a goal he still hoped to accomplish somehow. Jim Kirk, apparently, thought different.

"Don't go," he finally verbalized his intent. "Stay with me tonight, please?"

Spock gave the question full thought. He was disturbingly affected by the situation, and did not wish to make decisions he would later regret. On the other hand, it was late and neither of them had energy to speak of, therefore it was unlikely that this would culminate in the specific event he wished to avoid for both their sakes. Even with that as a given, this was no ordinary request. Spock was aware that if he stayed it would mean something. It would be a kind of admission. Nothing would be the same and yet… he did not want to avoid change. There was a chance that Jim would not remember this, but the probability that he would was higher. Kirk knew better than to drink past the point of awareness, partly because he took such joy in the perception of life that he would hate to lose even a minute of it to an alcohol-related blackout. Spock knew all of these things and, for that moment, he felt fear. He would have denied it verbally, but he was afraid of the consequences of his decision. The risk of such an action. But what most outweighed this fear was the frustration in the face of the wall he had been stopped behind. As though his natural path lie before him, and yet it was obscured by a behemoth of tangled, and unspoken, emotions. His life on the other side. Jim Kirk on the other side. If this night could chip, or even crack that wall, then the possible advantages far outweighed any drawbacks. Decision made, Spock sat, resting their clasped hands on the bed between them. He could feel the tension Jim had been holding suddenly dissipate. Turning, Spock saw a smile so bright, it seemed as though it could power a thousand starships. He opened his mouth to speak, but found himself wordless. Held captive by the power of that golden smile. His mouth hung open for a bewildered moment, but he was saved by his Captain's familiar jocular tone.

"A simple yes would suffice."

They each slept that night wrapped in the embrace of the other.


End file.
